


Among the ruins, across the stars

by ginnyred



Category: SKAM (Italy)
Genre: Adventure & Romance, Alternate Universe - Star Wars Setting, Angst, Crossover, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Lore Inaccuracies, M/M, Post-Order 66 (Star Wars), Science Fiction
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-17
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-15 07:29:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28809654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ginnyred/pseuds/ginnyred
Summary: Order 66 brought about the destruction of the Jedi order: Jedi and Padawans alike were slaughtered by the clone army. There are no survivors.Or maybe there are.
Relationships: Niccolò Fares/Martino Rametta
Comments: 47
Kudos: 14





	1. The wreckage

**Author's Note:**

> This is still a WIP, no promises.

Takodana's sun hasn't risen yet, but he's already awake: night is the best time to leave the wreckage. It's not that he feels safe at night, far from it, but his portion bread rations are getting slim, and he needs to eat somehow.

He approaches the henhouse in silence, advancing low and quiet, remembering his training. He jumps over the fence with ease and runs across the yard, making sure to hide behind the low, knotty branches of the giant trees extending from the forest into the property. 

Once at the wooden shed, he picks the lock with a piece of metal string he found days ago in the wreckage. It's barely even necessary, really. A good shove would have done it, but he doesn't want to scare the animals. 

There is silence inside the henhouse: the chickens still asleep, not quite enough light outside for them to decide another day has indeed begun. 

Marti hesitates, as he surveys the line of chickens inside the shed. He's never seen them this up close, he grew up in the city. If you wanted eggs in Galactic City, you went to the market. You could even get them brought over to you by a helpful droid, provided you paid for the service. His mum used to do that when things were rough and the mere idea of leaving the house felt too daunting.

Out here in the middle of nowhere, things are different. But then again, everything is different now – and being the kind of person who steals eggs from a farmer doesn't even make the top five. 

Marti pushes the thought away. He can't afford distractions now. He takes a step, muffled by the hay covering the floor of the hen house, away from the door and towards the animals. 

Two steps, three, four. 

A floorboard creaks, and the hen closest to him opens her eye. 

_Kriff_. 

Obviously startled by his presence, she opens her beak to cry out in warning... but he can't let her. 

He hadn't planned to do this. It's not safe to do this now they're hunting down survivors, but there's nothing else he can do. He just hopes no one is paying attention to what happens on this God-forsaken planet. 

He closes his eyes, extends his hand towards the startled animal, and lets a wave of peace and calm wash over him. 

_Shhhh. It's fine, it's all fine. Go back to sleep._

It works. The hen lets out a low cluck before settling back, eyes closed, peaceful once again. 

There is no time to lose: the sun is about to rise. 

Marti grabs two eggs, murmuring something silly like "thank you" to the hen, grateful no one is there to hear it. He walks backwards towards the door, careful to avoid the creaky floorboard, and once outside he bolts, his back curved to hide under the lowest branches of the trees. 

He's already reached the fence, marking the end of the farmer's property, when he remembers he hasn't locked the shed door. 

He can't leave it open, it will raise suspicions. He also can't risk going back: it's getting late, the farmer might come out and see him. 

He sighs, thinking he's already used it once, he might as well do it again. After all, why would they be looking for Force users in Takodana? As far as he knows, there's nothing here apart from a space port, quite a long way from here, and endless forests. 

Marti turns back, focuses his gaze on the shed door, and concentrates. 

It barely takes a second, which, at a different time, would have made him proud. Now he's just grateful when the door creaks closed and locks itself with a soft, metallic click. 

Marti jumps the fence and runs, eggs in hand, without looking back. 

* 

The wreckage lies, abandoned and semi-hidden by the foliage, a good thirty minutes away from the farm. 

Marti takes it in as he makes his way across the roots and twisting branches, carefully holding the stolen eggs in his hands. 

_The wreckage._

He calls it that because... well, that's what it is. 

It was a ship once: a Republic frigate, a decent-sized one too. But something happened, an accident of some kind, and it crashed – one or two years ago probably, judging by the way the moss envelops it, and only the wreckage remains now. 

In the past month, Marti has slowly made it his home. Hardly a comfortable one, but it's better than sleeping on the ground, on a tree, or even in a cave. Marti has tried them all, so he knows from experience. And after what happened, he doesn't like complaining about something that provides him with shelter and a chance at survival in the middle of nowhere. 

He doesn't feel like thinking about it too much either. What good does that do? 

The wreckage rests snugly in a shallow depression in the woods. Marti follows the gentle slope of the forest floor, holding both eggs in one hand – now so used to the protruding roots and rough terrain he's not even afraid of missteps anymore. 

Despite everything, there is something welcoming about the wreckage, a strangely comforting and probably misplaced feeling of home. 

He gets in from the usual breach in the lower deck, which leads him directly into what was probably the frigate's storage room at one point. He stands onto an empty chest there, opens the trapdoor in the ceiling, and carefully lays the eggs down onto the floor of the upper deck. He then pushes himself up through the trapdoor. 

It's immediately clear to him that something's wrong. 

He can't say what it is exactly – and explaining it as "a bad feeling" would earn him a slap on the back of the head with one of Spera's beloved books, if he were still at the temple. If Spera where still- 

Marti shakes away the thought. 

_Not now._

But there _is_ something wrong here – a presence he can sense, somewhere close. Someone that shouldn't be here. He can feel them, can almost taste their fear, their desperate sense of purpose, like a sour taste on the tip of his tongue. 

Weirdly, almost a mirror of his own. 

Marti leaves the eggs on the floor and starts advancing along the corridor, low and silent, his right hand naturally drawn to his side, where his lightsaber rests. 

He draws it out slowly without turning it on. 

He makes no sound as he stalks along the corridor on the upper deck, his back to the half-crumbling wall, his lightsaber ready, parallel to his stance, checking every room for intruders as he passes it. 

There's nothing in the main sleeping quarters, nothing in what little is left of the droid repair room, nothing in the small conference room with the broken holo-projector Marti has been trying, with his poor engineening skills, to fix, in vain... 

Marti stops in his tracks – his breathing too loud in the sudden stillness. 

There is a sound, some sort of urgent rustling coming from the end of the corridor – the tech room once, now Marti's storage for food supplies. Not that he's got much, apart from the stale bread he's managed to steal. 

Which is why he can't affort to lose even one portion. 

The sounds get louder, more frantic, as Marti approaches the end of the corridor. The thief probably realised they have to make haste, as this place _belongs_ to someone, and that makes them sloppy, careless. 

Marti peeks inside the room. The door has been stuck open ever since Marti has been living here and he can see the intruder's back from the door: a dirty, half-torn tunic, that was maybe white once. A shock of messy, raven black hair. A lithe slender-looking figure, fair-skinned.

Human, Marti thinks, though he can't be sure. 

The intruder has found Marti's hiding place for the bread, inside the largest toolbox, and is trying to grab as many of the portions they can, filling their pockets with them, carrying those that don't fit in their hands. 

They're so intent on their job they don't hear Marti come in, creeping close, saber drawn. It's probably because they're desperate, and hungry, and willing to risk everything for some stale bread, and not because of Marti's abilities and training in the Force. Not that any of this means anything anymore. 

Without warning, Marti activates his lightsaber. 

It turns on with a familiar low buzz, casting a pale blue light in the dark room. The tip of it singes the back of the intruder's tunic, right between their shoulder blades, without touching their skin. 

Marti hears the thief inhale sharply, the bread portions falling from their hands and hitting the floor with a dull thud. Marti can sense their fear and desperation, can feel their body shake in terror even as they try to remain unmoving. 

Marti means to sound calm and detached the way he knows he should be, the way he's been taught to be. But the intruder's obvious fear mixes with his own, and all kinds of unwanted thoughts start crowding Marti's mind. 

_Who is the thief? Are they alone? What do they want from him? What if they are...?_

Despite his best intentions, Marti's grip grows shaky on his saber, voice breaking. 

"Don't move," he commands, almost scared by the echo of his own words in the abandoned wreckage – acutely aware that he sounds like a scared child, light years away from home. "Move and I'll kill you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have decided I do not care.


	2. The braid

"Don't move. Move and I'll kill you." 

The intruder complies, his arms frozen mid-air, his breath coming short and too loud in the silent, cramped space. 

It takes a moment for them to speak. When they finally do, it's with a low, surprisingly rough voice, like it's been a while since the last time they had to use it. "Coruscant?" 

Marti frowns, hearing the name of his native planet coming from the mouth of a complete stranger. "Ye- what?" he asks, changing his mind at the very last second, wanting to beat himself up for almost slipping. 

There doesn't seem to be much point to it. 

"You're from Coruscant," the intruder says, and it doesn't sound like a question anymore. Their voice isn't that rough now either. "I recognise the accent." 

"I..." Marti shakes his head to clear it. This is not going the way he thought it would. A part of him is relieved, another still deeply suspicious. Marti's saber keeps buzzing, low and menacingly close to the intruder's skin. "Who are you? What are you doing here? Is... is that a _lightsaber?!_ " 

Marti blinks twice, disbelieving, but that's exactly what it is. Resting on their side, half-hidden by the torn dirty fabric of the tunic. 

"Er, no?" the intruder offers, tentative, after a long pause. Their hand twitches but they don't make any move to grab it. Marti is secretly grateful, he doesn't know what he would have done in case they had. "Does that make it better? Or worse?" 

Marti scoffs humourlessly. He can't believe their nerve, but still finds himself taking a step back. He doesn't lower his saber, but he's got, well, a _feeling_... 

It should be impossible, though. From what Marti has managed to piece together from gossip at the nearest village's market, it _is_ impossible. 

"Turn around. Hands up," Marti orders, trying to keep his voice as level as he can. He can't afford to give away what he's thinking, maybe foolishly hoping. "Show yourself." 

The intruder hesitates. Then, slowly, carefully, hands up in the air, begins to turn around. 

There's a lot to take in – or, better, there would be. The dirt on the intruder's definitely human face. The tired, yet alert, eyes. The deep cut on the left cheekbone. The way the white tunic and light-coloured trousers appear way too big for the body inside of them, like they used to belong to someone else, or like the intruder has lost a lot of weight in a really short span of time. 

Marti barely notices any of it – his eyes drawn immediately to the right side of the intruder's face, where from the dirty curly nest of hair a small braid peeks out, black like the rest of it, and trails down to just below the shoulder, closed off with simple twine. 

Marti's lightsaber escapes his grip and clatters loudly to the floor. But Marti's too shocked to be ashamed, his feeling from earlier not remotely enough to prepare him for... _this._

"Are you an idiot?!" Marti tries not to scream, pointing at the braid like both of their lives depend on it. And, to be fair, they kind of do. "Why the kriff didn't you cut that?!" 

* 

His name is Nico, and he's been living on Takodana, but he's not from here. He was born in Galactic City, the planet-sized capital city of Coruscant, where his parents are from. Where Marti himself was born. 

Marti had no idea there was a Jedi temple on Takodana. All he's seen so far are forests, isolated farms, and, at least two hours away from the wreckage, one ridiculously small forest village. 

If he'd known about a temple, he would have been even more careful about showing himself, about using the Force, but this is hardly the time to torment himself over it. 

There's nothing he can do about it anyway. 

The sun has finally risen, the sky tinted pink, the light filtering through the canopy warm and orange, as they're sitting cross-legged in front of Marti's makeshift brazier behind the wreckage. 

Marti watches, half-fascinated, half-horrified, as Nico bites, hungry and almost ravenous, into the portion bread, soon after finishing a bland flavourless serving of scrambled eggs. 

He wonders when the last time Nico ate was, telling himself he's not sure he really wants to know. 

Nico finishes the bread too before Marti's own egg is done cooking. Marti doesn't think twice before gesturing for the slab Nico is eating on, carefully sliding the egg on it, and pushing it back to Nico, who smiles up at him gratefully. 

He has a nice smile – bright, open, impossible. It reminds Marti of somewhere, sometime far away from here, before his life was turned upside down by the crash. 

Nico doesn't need to know that Marti stole both eggs little more than an hour ago for his own breakfast. 

As Nico eats, Marti's eyes are drawn to his braid again, dangling from side to side with each movement of Nico's head. Marti finds himself touching his own hair in response, on the right side of his head, where his braid used to be. 

"You really need to cut that," he offers out of the blue, tilting his chin towards Nico's braid. "You're too recognisable. They'd kill you on sight, if they saw you." 

Nico looks up from his breakfast, grimacing like he knows Marti is right but doesn't like admitting it. He doesn't reply directly. 

"Have you seen them around here?" he asks instead, looking around like the mere mention could summon them. 

Marti can relate to the paranoia. "The clone troopers? No. But the official version is we turned on _them_ – that it's all the Jedi's fault. There will be people who'll sell you out if you give them the chance." 

"Yeah, I know..." Nico sighs deeply. Takes the last bites of scrambled eggs, before laying the slab down on the grass in front of him. He keeps staring at it, frowning to himself, trying to put his thoughts into words. "I just didn't want- I don't know. Cutting it feels so... definitive, you know?" 

Marti smiles sadly at that. There is something touching in Nico's attachment to his Padawan braid. Marti himself felt a lot like he was ripping out a part of himself, of his life, when he cut it off so he could blend in better. 

It had been with him for so long, ever since he started training at the Jedi temple as a young boy. 

"I know." 

"It should have been, like... a moment." Nico continues, eyes still downcast, voice quiet. "You've finally made it, you're a Jedi. Not quite like building your own lightsaber, but, you know, close." 

"I heard if you got thrown out they'd rip it off," Marti offers, suddenly remembering the piece of gossip from his days back at the temple. "Not sure if it's true." 

He says it on impulse, not thinking too much about it. It takes a couple of seconds, and the sudden mournful shadow crossing Nico's face, for Marti to realise the implications. 

There's hardly an order to get thrown out of anymore. They have nowhere they belong to, nothing that gives their lives any sort of meaning or purpose. They've lost it all. 

Marti shakes his head. "Sorry, I-" 

"It's weird, right?" Nico interrupts. He reaches out, makes to touch Marti's arm, then changes his mind about it and lays his hand down slowly on the grass between them. "How sometimes you just... forget." 

"... yeah." 

Nico nods slowly, like he understands, and Marti doesn't know him at all, but he's sure he does. 

"The way they just... showed up out of nowhere, at night," Nico adds after a long pause, more to himself than to Marti, like he's contemplating how it's possible for the memory not to occupy every second of his day, every thought in his brain. "We were all sleeping." 

"Did you have to fight?" 

Nico's only reply is an almost imperceptible twitch of his mouth, followed by a sour smile. He touches the cut below his cheekbone, probably unconsciously. 

"Why were you on Takodana?" Nico asks gently, after a minute or so of thoughtful silence. 

"I wasn't... I mean." Marti is not ready to relive that awful night yet. He thinks he probably never will be. He shrugs, in a silly attempt to shake away the pain. "My master... he thought he'd found the location of... well, some ancient books – they were supposed to be scattered around different planets... here in the Western Reaches," he finishes lamely. 

It's hardly an answer, and definitely not a satisfying one, though it's not a lie. Thankfully Nico doesn't press the issue, but Marti isn't so naive as to think he's fooled him. 

"You're right," Nico says instead, grabbing the end of his braid between his fingers and sighing deeply. "About this. Maybe it is too dangerous to keep." 

" _Maybe_ ," Marti scoffs, like Nico is being ridiculous. "It _is_ dangerous. And you _are_ getting rid of it if you're going to stay here." 

Nico looks up so suddenly at that that Marti's first instinct is to think he's heard something – footsteps maybe, or leaves rustling – that they're about to be attacked. 

But no, this is something different. 

Nico's face opens slowly into another ridiculously bright, impossibly hopeful smile. "Am I going to stay here?" 

_Oh._ Oh, right. 

They haven't discussed that yet. 

It's so strange to think they've only just met. It feels like they've shared so much already, when really – Nico is right – they know little more than each other's names. 

To cover up the embarrassment, Marti rolls his eyes and mumbles something unintelligible under his breath. He feels his cheek heat up anyway. 

"What was that, sorry?" Nico teases, amused but kind. 

Marti shoves him hard in retaliation, rolling his eyes again. "Idiot."


	3. The saber

"Marti!" 

The excited tone makes him look up from the lighsaber he's polishing out of habit, as he sits cross-legged in the grass in front of the wreckage, his back against a large and knotty pine tree. 

Nico's head is peeking out of the broken window of what they insist on calling the "conference room". 

Marti knows he looks expectant – he can't help it after Nico managed to fix the holoprojector in mere seconds. 

_"My dad is an engineer. I always used to hang around the droid factory as a kid," Nico explained with a shrug, like it was no big deal._

... not that they can _use_ the holoprojector, of course. 

They got excited about it for a minute, when Nico's patched-together generator miraculously sputtered into life and the holoprojector, after a couple of false starts, finally switched on. 

They almost couldn't believe it: they had a way to send an SOS message and be rescued from this God-forsaken place! 

... then they remembered they couldn't think of a single place or person that would be safe to contact. 

Their temples attacked, their homes and families probably under surveillance, same as their friends. The very people who want them dead occupying the highest government positions. An SOS message in these conditions would be suicide, really. 

Nico shakes his head, smiling ruefully. "No miracle fixings today, sorry." 

Marti shrugs and pretends to be more disppointed than he is. "Too bad, I was getting used to it." 

"Never get used to good things, they always disappoint you," Nico offers wisely, then winks, so Marti doesn't know how seriously to take it. He's not sure why he finds himself quickly lowering his gaze, cheeks turning pink, either. 

Nico doesn't seem to notice it. 

"Did you know that there's a lake?! Or a pond maybe? You can sort of see it from up here." Nico points straight ahead, squinting, with the sun in his eyes. "Like, a mile or so that way." 

... well, it was bound to happen sooner or later. 

Marti makes an effort not to show any reaction, even though inside he's screaming. He stops polishing the saber because he can't be sure his hands won't start shaking. 

"The water from the stream is good too," he says in what he hopes is a distracted enough tone. "And it's closer." 

"Yeah, but we could bathe there." 

Marti makes a non-committal sound. "The stream is fine for that too." 

"Got it. You enjoy being stoned by the stream while you bathe." Nico rolls his eyes. "Can we at least go look at this lake?" 

"You had legs, like time I checked?" Marti replies, more biting that he means to. 

Nico snorts, huffs something under his breath but drops the point, retreating inside, so Marti can go back to his polishing, guilty but also relieved. 

With hindsight, he probably should have seen it coming. 

A few seconds of pause, then a pine cone falls from the tree Marti is standing under. Suddenly – no wind, no curious birds poking around, no rustling sounds as it falls, nothing. 

"Ouch!" Marti says, dropping his saber to massage his head. He looks down at the offending pine cone, frowning, then up at the tree branches, as if looking for something to blame. 

It all happens so quickly Marti barely has time to realise what's going on. 

Nico jumps out of the wreckage, directly from the window. Using the Force, he calls Marti's lightsaber to him from where it's lying, half-forgotten, on the grass next to him. The stupid thing doesn't even try resist him! If Marti had time to process this, he'd be deeply offended. 

Nico grabs it from mid-air with a smug smile and obviously – _obviously!_ – starts running in the direction of the lake. 

Because he's an idiot. An idiot with Marti's lighsaber. 

Cursing under his breath, Marti can only jump to his feet and rush after him. 

* 

When he finally reaches the painfully familiar glade, panting and sweating and even angrier than before – running was never his strong suit – he finds Nico waiting for him, sitting serafically on the lake bank, his bare feet in the water. The soothing sound of a nearby waterfall contributes to set a misleadingly peaceful scene. 

Marti's first instinct is to push Nico into the lake, because he deserves it, but that would require getting uncomfortably close to the water, and Marti is trying to look at it as little as possible. 

"Jerk," he tells Nico instead. He holds out his hand and calls his lightsaber to him – now he's close enough to do it, carefulness be damned. 

Nico laughs, standing up to face Marti, who is still keeping his distance. "Why didn't you want to come here? It's great!" 

"Again, you have legs, don't you?" 

Nico smiles, taking in Marti's disheveled appearance after the run. "You too, apparently." He looks around, taking in the relatively ample clearing right in the middle of the forest. "We could train here." 

Marti grimaces, and this time Nico doesn't miss it. He looks at Marti curiously, frowning slightly, like he's sure he's missing something. Like he's replaying the whole conversation in his mind to check where it might have gone wrong. 

"You don't want to train?" he asks earnestly, voice low. 

"I didn't say that." 

"But you looked-" 

"Just leave it, Ni." 

"Right, but you said-" 

"I hate it here, okay?!" Marti explodes, surprising even himself with the sudden burst of rage. Nico looks visibly startled and takes a step back, but it's too late now to rein it in. "This glade, this lake, this... _everything!_ Can we please go somewhere else? Then we can train... or whatever else you want to do, I don't care." 

Nico looks like he's been smacked in the face. His face falls with obvious guilt, even though it's clear he's not sure what just happened. If possible, Marti feels ever worse now. 

Nico was just excited about the place, he had no way of knowing... 

He still has no way of knowing. 

No one moves for a second: Nico on his feet, his back to the lake, and Marti facing him, his eyes downcast, his lightsaber still in his hands. Careful to keep his gaze away from the peaceful, tremendously deep waters. 

"I know another place," Marti mutters in the end. He kicks a tuft of grass gently with his foot. "It's not far. I've been... training there. Sometimes." He looks up uncertainly. "It's harder when you're on your own." 

It's a half an apology, half a hidden plea – please, _please_ , don't leave – but still nowhere near an explanation. 

Silence stretches on after that, for so long Marti can't fight the impulse to look up into Nico's face anymore. He looks serious and reflective, a deep frown between his eyebrows – the way he gets sometimes when he thinks Marti isn't looking at him. 

Nico notices Marti's gaze and his lips twitch slightly before stretching into a small smile. "Let's see this other place then." 

He makes way himself, putting on his shoes and stepping out of the glade and back under the thick canopy, despite having no idea where they're going. 

His arm brushes against Marti's as he passes him, quick and almost accidental, but a strange feeling of comfort lingers for long seconds afterwards. 

* 

The other place is nowhere near as good, obviously. 

It's not as vast and open, for once. Just some spot where a massive, centuries-old tree trunk was stricken by lighting – or maybe something more sinister – and brought down several other trees with its fall. It's even smaller than the depression snugly enveloping their wreckage a few miles away. 

Nico doesn't mention it. 

He just jumps, graceful in a way Marti knows he'll never be, no matter how much he trains, on top on the largest tree trunk and from there on a nearby rock formation, arms open wide at his sides, balancing himself at the very top. It makes Marti smile. 

"What do you want to do?" Marti asks, looking around, as if for inspiration. 

To be fair, he hasn't been doing much training since he first discovered the place. Just some meditation – awfully hard that, when you expect to be attacked everytime the leaves above rustle a bit differently. He tried some technique exercises too, the ones he used to do at the temple, quite unlikely to attract attention, but it just felt... strange, practising on his own. 

Strange and sad. 

"I don't know." Nico's deep voice reaches him from the top of the rock. Marti can only see one of his arms from where he's standing. "What are you good at?" 

Marti scoffs. "What are _you_ good at?" 

"Mmmm..." Nico thinks about it for a moment. "Pretending I'm meditating when I'm actually thinking about how awful it is to be awake at the crack of dawn?" 

"Useful skill, that." 

"Right? Also, I like jumps." 

Marti snorts, glancing up at where Nico is still balancing himself on top of the moss-covered rock. "Really? I hadn't noticed." 

"What about you?" 

"I... well." Marti hesitates, suddenly self-conscious about his own abilities in a way he never usually is. "I'm good at making up translations of old Jedi texts?" 

"Oh God! I swear no one really knows what those old books say." 

"Yeah, probably," Marti agrees easily. The thought crossed his mind too during the long hours spent pouring over dictionaries and encyclopedias. "And... I don't know... I like lightsaber training? But it's not like I'm good at it or anything." 

At first Nico doesn't reply, and Marti thinks he might not even have heard him, all the way up there. 

But he has, he must have, because one second later Nico lands right before him. 

Graceful as ever, barely making a sound if not for the fallen leaves he inevitably displaces as he touches the ground with one arm and knee. From this angle, Marti can't help but notice the uneven cut where his Padawan braid used to be. 

Marti cut it off himself, at Nico's request. 

Nico stands up, smiling in anticipation, unhooking his lighsaber from the belt on his hips. It's the first time Marti has seen him with it. 

Marti rolls his eyes – this is not at all what he had in mind – but takes a step back, falling into a defensive position. He turns on his saber, its deep blue glow familiar and reassuring. Which helps because, excitement aside, he knows what they're doing is dangerous. 

"Are you being modest?" Nico asks, mirroring Marti's position. His words sound gently mocking. 

"I guess you'll find out," Marti says, going for mysterious mainly to make fun of Nico, whose smile only widens at the words. 

But when he turns on his lightsaber, Marti's jaw practically falls to the floor. 

Yellow blades are rare enough, but Marti has seen a couple before, from visiting Masters. He has never met anyone who fights with a double-bladed lightsaber, though. Only heard the stories, that some Jedi in some faraway places did fight with such weapons. 

Truth be told, Marti didn't really believe those stories were real. 

"You... you have a double-bladed lightsaber," Marti says. He knows he's pointing out the obvious, but he can't help it. 

Nico just laughs, his whole face lit up by the brightness of the top blade of this saber. "So it seems." 

"But why- I mean... _how?!_ I thought they were..." _A myth_ , Marti wants to say. "Super rare," he goes for instead, to save face. 

Nico shrugs. "It's just how I've been taught to fight." 

Marti shakes his head, like he's still having trouble believing it. "I don't think it's a fair fight," he points out, eyeing critically the way the bottom blade fizzles and hums, coming out of the hilt the exact same way the top blade does. 

_Incredible_ , he thinks. _... and probably deadly._

"What?" Nico giggles, clearly pleased with Marti's reaction. "You're giving up already?" 

Marti glares, pricked in his pride. "I didn't say I was giving up." 

"Well then." Nico gestures for him to come closer, his smile mischievous and inviting in a way Marti knows he won't be able to say no to. "Your move."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone who's following along! Virtual hugs to all the lovely people who commented/left kudos <3


	4. The fight

Nico – Marti soon finds out – is a quick and agile fighter, jumping around and dodging Marti's saber at every turn. Marti's right arm is starting to ache after the tenth or so blow that doesn't even meet Nico's lightsaber. 

"Stop that," he mutters under his breath, after having to dislodge his saber from the dead trunk they've been fighting around. 

He hears Nico giggle somewhere behind his back. "Why? Aren't you having fun?" 

Marti turns on the spot, saber spinning with the motion, parallel to the forest floor, hoping to catch Nico off-guard. 

He doesn't, but this time at least Nico has to parry with his top blade. The sabers clash, thrumming with energy, as they both put their weight into them, without managing to advance even an inch on each other. 

Though Marti will admit, if only to himself – this is hardly his best fight. 

And it's not just that he's out of practice, even though he knows he is. It's that he usually finds it easier to focus and become aware of himself and his surroundings, of the weapon and its energy as an extention of himself, of the opponent and their fighting style, of the threat they pose and the best way to counter it. 

With Nico, things are different. 

Not only isn't Marti used to having an opponent who'll avoid fighting him as long as Nico has, tangling Marti up in what is effectively a fight with his own weapon – one he's shamefully losing too. He also keeps getting distracted by... other things. Things he's been taught he shouldn't get distracted by.

Like Nico's smile for instance, which has never left his face for the entirety of the fight. Surely that's against the rules? 

Marti groans, pushing at Nico's blade and getting him to take a step back. He goes back into defensive position immediately, his eyes following Nico as he starts circling him. He hasn't striked yet, not once. 

He keeps smiling. 

"You fight well," Nico says, spinning his saber in his grip with one hand – and it sounds genuine enough, except Marti knows how he's been doing. 

"Shut up." 

"You do!" Nico insists, eyes wide, forgetting his weapon for a moment to gesture emphatically at Marti. And okay, he's probably not making fun of him after all. "You have strength, stamina, good technique-" 

"Right." Marti scoffs, the praise making him uncomfortable, especially as he knows he could do so much better than this if only Nico stopped kriffing _smiling_. He shakes his head to clear it. "Is that why you keep running away?" 

Nico shrugs, the amused smile still in place. "Sure." 

It's only at that point that Nico strikes – jumping high, almost in slow-motion, before bearing down and forcing Marti to parry from below. He manages, somehow, despite the sharp pain cursing through his already tired arm. 

"This is your style, then?" Marti pants, as Nico engages him for real now, feinting right with his top blade only to strike left with his bottom one, forcing Marti to come to terms with the fact that yes, two blades are indeed an advantage, provided the opponent knows how to use them. And Nico definitely does. "Tiring me out so you can win easily?" 

Nico giggles, advancing on Marti, and pushing him into taking several blind steps back, to allow his sore arm some rest. 

"You did everything yourself," Nico points out, voice sing-songy, tongue poking out from between his teeth. " _Marti._ " 

Marti has to push down the sudden urge to punch that smug grin in, or kiss it away. It's hard to tell the difference right now. 

He only stops retreating when his left foot meets something hard – something which resists Marti's half-hearted attempt to kick it away and seems to trap his leg inside it instead. He allows himself a fraction of a second to look. 

Kriffing tree trunk. 

Dead, covered in moss and holes, and so huge it reaches up to his waist. And somehow Marti managed to step right into one of its cavities, as it's partly hollow inside. As he gingerly steps back out, Marti gazes up into Nico's eyes, who's looking at him with barely contained glee. 

"What do you keep smiling about?" 

Marti strikes, all strength and no finesse, just so he can gain a couple of inches on Nico. Nico parries – he was obviously expecting it – so Marti goes for a reprise, which isn't much more successful. 

"You. You're very-" The words die on Nico's mouth, his eyes fixed somewhere above Marti's shoulder. His smile seemingly turning to stone before sliding off his lips completely. 

Nico turns off his lightsaber and gestures for Marti to do the same, suddenly frantic, a look of sheer terror contorting his face in a way Marti has never seen before. 

"What-" 

"Sshhhh. Troopers." 

Nico crouches down, grabbing Marti's arm and pulling him down with him. They hide behind the tree trunk first, then Nico gestures wordlessly at one of the trunk's biggest cavities, and disappears inside it.

Marti is so dumbfounded he doesn't even question it, just crawls inside after Nico, his brain only catching up with him as he finds himself in a cramped space surrounded by damp wood – everything dark around him, a powerful rotting smell making him nauseous, Nico breathing heavily somewhere near his ear. 

He doesn't know how, but Marti is sure he can hear Nico's heart too, beating wildly almost out of his chest, strangely in synch with his own, but for all the wrong reasons. 

"Where are they?" Marti asks, his words too loud to his own ears, even though he barely even whispers them. 

"Not too far," Nico whispers back into his ear. "They seemed to be coming from the village." 

"Did they see us?" 

"I don't know. But they must have heard something." A pause, Marti can hear Nico gulp loudly. "Just... stay down and keep your saber close, okay?" 

Marti nods, more to himself than to Nico. He takes a deep breath. "Okay." 

Then there's nothing to do but wait. In silence, weapons in hand, listening to the sounds of the forest as they try to breathe as quietly as they can. 

Somehow, for all that he's been expecting to be attacked at every turn, Nico's presence made all of that feel so far away. Like this could be a life he chose to live rather than the only way he has to survive. 

Like maybe he could allow himself to breathe again, for a little while. 

Marti has grown careless, he knows: using the Force for petty reasons, getting distracted by Nico's smiles, going for a lightsaber fight when he _knows_ they're hunting Force users... 

What was he _thinking?!_

A metallic, distorted voice directly above him brings Marti abruptly back to the present. 

"AB-0034 coming in, sir. We appear to have reached the place. There are several dead trees here, sir, but they appear to have been felled a while back. No living beings – human or otherwise." 

A long pause, during which the receiver croaks with what Marti assumes is the reply of a superior officer, but it's too distorted for him to make out anything more than a low buzz. 

He holds his breath as he waits for the trooper to speak again. 

"Copy that, sir. We'll search the place." 

_Kriff._

Nico was right: they must have heard something, maybe even seen the glow of their lightsabers from afar while on patrol near the village. That's why they came. 

God, they were so _stupid._

The clones spread out. Marti hears AB-0034 shout out orders, even though he can't see much from inside the trunk and he doesn't dare move. 

He listens as carefully as he can, trying to block out everything else and focusing on the sounds alone, attempting to make out the direction each of the troopers is taking. 

_There are four of them_ , Marti thinks. He frowns, eyes shut, trying to concentrate even harder. _Maybe five? Unless...?_

_Ugh, this is useless_ – Marti cannot focus. 

The wait is unbearably slow and tense: his leg is starting to shake too so he grabs it decisively with his left arm, the one that's not holding the lighsaber, to force it to stay still. He cannot afford to move or to make a single sound. 

It takes Marti a moment to realise it's not his leg that's shaking. 

Nico's entire frame seems to be overtaken by tremors. Marti feels them first against his right leg, where it's leaning, knee drawn up, against Nico's left, but it soon becomes clear there's not an inch of Nico that isn't shaking. 

He tries to reach out to Nico using the Force then, to tap into its soothing nature and share it with Nico – but instead he's hit by a sudden, overwhelming wave of cold, paralysing fear that leaves him shaking all over too. 

Marti doesn't know what this is, doesn't think he's ever felt anything of that intensity before. All he knows is he can't let Nico face this alone. 

He reaches out again, with his hand this time, patting blindly for Nico's free hand and grabbing it tight as soon as he finds it. He squeezes Nico's right hand with his left, hard enough to try and break through Nico's walls. 

Nothing happens for a long moment – long enough that Marti starts thinking there's no point to any of this – then suddenly, with unexpected force, Nico returns the gesture, squeezing and almost crushing Marti's fingers between his own. 

His breaths are still coming uneven and too fast, and Marti wishes there was more he could do, but he knows there isn't. 

He just tries to control his own breathing, to slow it down to a steady rhythm. The troopers outside are looking for them, maybe they'll even find them – but Marti's focus is here, inside this dead trunk, as he holds Nico's hand and tries to calm them both down. 

He couldn't say how long it takes. Reasonably, it can't be more than a few minutes, but to Marti they feel like hours or entire days. 

Marti hears the heavy footsteps of the troopers converge somewhere at his left, near the rock formation Nico practically danced on earlier this afternoon. 

It feels like a lifetime ago. 

Then, that very same metallic voice speaks again. 

"AB-0034 again, sir. Nothing to report." A pause, as he listens to the officer's reply through the receiver. "Copy that, making our way back right now." 

Marti keeps dead quiet, afraid of even breathing, as the troopers fall in line and start marching away from them, crushing leaves and small tree branches under their heavy boots. They seems to be headed in the village's direction, just like Nico said. 

"Hey," Marti offers quietly, scooting closer to Nico, who's still shaking, all crouched in on himself. He caresses the back of his hand with his thumb in a soothing gesture. "Ni, they're gone. Do you-" 

With no warning, Nico sags, almost emptied, against Marti's shoulder, burying his face into the crook of his neck. Not knowing what's best to do, and still thinking about that distressing wave of fear from before, Marti just goes with his instinct and envelops Nico in a hug, one hand going up to stroke his hair reassuringly. 

"It's okay," Marti whispers, letting Nico lean on his completely, holding his shaking frame between his arms. "It's okay. We're safe now." 

Nico doesn't reply – he makes no sound at all. But Marti can feel the wetness from his tears against the base of his neck, drenching the top of his tunic, mixing with his own sweat. 

He holds Nico tighter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the lovely feedback and the patience <3 This is getting so much longer than I ever imagined.


	5. The night

Nico barely speaks to him all day after they come back to the wreckage. 

He refuses to eat both at noon and at dusk and his polite yet curt reply at Marti's tentative enquiries – "I'm fine, thank you" – tells Marti it's probably best to drop it. 

_It stings_ , Marti reflects as he gets ready for bed, which mainly consists in him washing his face and hands, taking off his tunic, and crawling under the small, single blanket that is too short now he and Nico cut it in half so they could both have one. 

He sleeps in the wreckage's sleeping quarters, on the bottom half of something that before the impact was definitely a bunk bed, attached to the durasteel wall. 

It's been distorted by the crash, its surface far from smooth and even now, but, given the circumstances, Marti knows it's still his best option. 

It takes a few moments of silent reflection as he stares at the empty spot across the room – at the bunk bed there, twin to his own, at the other half of the blanket thrown haphazardly on the bottom bunk – before he realises what it is, exactly, that stings so much. 

It's not like Marti doesn't understand shame, or trauma, it's not like he didn't freak out too when they went back to the lake, in a painful if futile attempt to drown the painful memories in blind rage. 

It's the realisation he hates seeing Nico hurting as well as the crystal clear certainty there is nothing much he can do about it, if Nico doesn't let him. He knows that, because there is nothing _Nico_ can do to make _him_ stop hurting, unless he lets him in. 

And this is hardly the time or place to be vulnerable, they both know it. 

Marti rolls slowly onto his back, forcing himself to tear his eyes away from Nico's empty bunk and staring at the one above his instead, at the hole the impact punched right through it, as the fading light outside starts enveloping the room in darkness. 

Nico doesn't come back.

Marti last saw him as the sun was beginning to set, sitting near the brazier at the back and staring at the flames, frowning in the way he does whenever he's upset. But when Marti joined him with some bread and fruit he looked away, mumbled something about not being hungry, and left immediately – Marti couldn't say where to. 

Marti doesn't know if he falls asleep. 

He certainly tries to, closing his eyes and trying to empty his mind. But while his body is tired, his brain cannot seem to stop thinking – thoughts slippery like shadows but more colourful, all tangled with one another in ways that defy any attempts at logic or order. It's like Marti can't keep up with his own mind, and it exhausts him even more. 

There's one thought especially, one specific image, that keeps coming back – and it torments him because it slips away, eluding him, whenever he tries to focus on it. 

Everything is muffled, underwater blue, and the shape... glimmers, golden and precious, somewhere above the surface, just out of reach. Close yet incredibly far away. 

Whenever Marti reaches out, the glimmer fades into the overwhelming blue... only to come back clearer, shinier, whenever Marti's thoughts start wandering once again. 

But he can still catch it with the corner of his eye – flecks of gold, amidst all the jumbled thoughts. It's somehow more defined like this, when he's not focusing on it. Marti can almost make out a human shape above the surface... 

"Marti?" 

He wakes, though he's still not sure he was really sleeping, his right hand automatically searching for the lighsaber he keeps right by him even in his sleep. 

But there is no need. The shape right above his head solidifies into a recognisable silhouette, even in the dark. 

"Ni?" 

Nico doesn't say anything, just leans tiredly against the side of the top bunk with one of his arms. He's wearing the blanket on his shoulders like a cape, but underneath he's still wearing his tunic. 

Marti can't see very well – the only light that of Takodana's moons filtering through the dirty, circular window on the ceiling – but he thinks Nico might have his eyes closed. 

" _Ni?_ " Marti calls again, the worry evident in his voice now. 

Nico sighs deeply, his chest expanding with the motion, the rest of his body almost unnaturally still. 

"Can I stay here for a while?" he asks instead of replying, voice low, not looking at Marti, like he's ashamed of even asking. 

It's that shame, the hesitation in his voice, that startles Marti into action. Finally, something he _can_ do. 

He scoots back towards the wall immediately, making room for Nico next to him. 

Nico hesitates, checking Marti's face for something – maybe reassurance that this is really fine. Then he sits on the small bed, gingerly, his back to Marti. 

He doesn't move any further and doesn't speak, almost holding his breath. It takes Marti's tentative, reassuring hand on his shoulder for Nico to decide he isn't imposing after all and to lie down carefully on his back, his right shoulder pressing against Marti's left, the blanket lifted up to his chin. 

They both look up at the hole in the top bunk, in silence. 

For some ridiculous reason, Marti is reminded that his tunic is lying up there, folded neatly – just where he left it before going to bed. And that while Nico is fully dressed under the covers, he is in his underwear. 

He pushes the thought away, cheeks heating up, feeling guilty for even thinking of such a trivial detail in the middle of... all of this. 

When Nico finally speaks, it's in a shameful whisper. "I'm sorry... about earlier. And thank you." 

Marti shakes his head quickly: he was expecting this. "You were the one who saw the troopers – and who thought of hiding inside that tree," Marti replies honestly. He doesn't look at Nico because Nico is not looking at him. "I should be thanking you." 

Nico scoffs – not rude but self-effacing, like he thinks Marti is just being nice to him. "I'm not talking about that part. I..." Nico swallows, then adds, voice hesitant: "I lost control. It happens to me sometimes." 

"It happens to everyone." 

Nico shakes his head. "It's not the same – you felt it, didn't you? All that energy. It's been happening since I was little. That's why... I've been training at the temple here, in Takodana, with Mari. She is... she was... my parents didn't trust anyone else." 

Marti nods slowly, grateful for Nico opening up but terrified of saying the wrong thing and bursting the fragile bubble of comfort and understanding they seem to have built around themselves. 

"Any idea why that happens?" he asks tentatively. 

Nico shrugs. "Lots of theories... but really, no one knows. I'm just... wired wrong, I guess." 

Marti shakes his head, even though Nico is still staring pointedly at the ceiling. "You're not. You're one of the best fighters I've ever seen," he offers sincerely. "And that's the truth. I'm not just being nice to you, okay?" 

Nico lets out a small sound – a laugh or a sob, Marti can't tell. 

"Your Master..." Marti continues after some hesitation. "She taught you how to turn all that energy... inwards?" It seems strange, counterintuitive even, but Marti is sure that's what Nico was doing inside that tree. And what does Marti know anyway? 

"No. She taught me how to let it out in a way that is safe – that won't hurt me or others. But they were _there_ and it felt so much like that night at the temple – hiding under our beds, trying not to make a sound. So I panicked and- I'm so sorry, Marti, I failed you." 

Marti turns his head at that. Nico is still looking up, now at the crescent moon they can barely make out through the dirt covering the window on the ceiling. 

Slow, hesitant – Marti reaches out and strokes the side of Nico's face with his finger. Nico closes his eyes and breathes out shakily, a single tear sliding down his cheek and into his collar. 

"You didn't fail me. We helped each other, okay? That's what friends do." 

Nico smiles before he even opens his eyes. When they make eye contact, the moonlight casting strange shadows on their faces, Marti can see how grateful Nico looks. 

He smiles back, a pleasant warm feeling spreading from his chest and enveloping him like an embrace. His fingers are itching to reach out and touch Nico's skin again, but he reins that in. 

_Friends_ , Marti repeats to himself. He can't be greedy. That's not how Jedi are. 

He must frown unconsciously, because a moment later Nico reaches out to him, mirroring his gesture from before, smoothing the lines on his forehead with his thumb. 

It's silly and sweet, and Marti knows his skin is burning. 

"Stupid," he mumbles under his breath, swatting Nico's hand away and making him giggle. 

"What are you thinking about?" Nico asks. There is a lingering smile on his lips, but Marti can tell the question is serious. 

He's not sure how to answer, though, he's thinking about so many things. 

About everything he's lost and will never get back and about everything he's found when he thought there was nothing left for him anymore. He's thinking about life and death and power and mystery and opening yourself up to someone at the end of the world. 

He's thinking about how warm Nico's skin was under his touch just a moment ago. 

"... I crash-landed here," Marti says in the end, and even if it feels like a non sequitur he knows Nico can tell it isn't. It's surprisingly easy to go on once he's started, though it's probably got something to do with Nico's encouraging nod and his hand resting on Marti's arm, steady and reassuring, just under his wrist. "On an escape pod I couldn't even pilot – I never learnt how." 

"You were on a ship when... it happened?" 

Marti nods slowly. It's the first time since that night he's allowing himself to remember. He closes his eyes, but maybe it's not such a good idea: it makes it all so vivid, like it's happening all over again. 

"It was like a switch being flipped, I don't know how else to explain it. Lance... the clone trooper... I think they did something to his brain. He was our friend, our pilot: we'd gone on so many missions together before... before it happened." 

Marti's voice breaks. Nico says nothing, only squeezes Marti's arm gently in a conforting gesture. 

"My Master tried to stop him: we were losing altitude, Lance was going to crash the ship. My Master started fighting him, but... it was too late. He shouted to me to get away, to get on an escape pod and get to safety... and... and I did." Marti shakes his head, the memory still too raw and painful to dwell on it. "I honestly can't say how I even got the engine to work, I've never piloted anything in my life. I was lucky, the ship blew up seconds after I left. And my pod... I lost control of it..." 

"You crash-landed in the glade," Nico says for him, voice low and full of understanding. "In the lake." 

It probably wasn't too hard to piece together. Marti just nods tiredly. 

"I hate that place. Some nights I still dream I'm drowning in there," Marti admits, forcing himself to look at Nico. His eyes are wet and he knows Nico can tell, even in the dark "I'm sorry... for shouting at you when we went there." 

"I get it. I shouldn't have-" 

"You couldn't know, Ni." 

They fall silent after that – not uncomfortable, just exhausted.

There is much to add, still: things to say and grief to finally find words for, so that it stops being so overpowering in its shapelessness. But Marti is already worn out from this, eyelids heavy and muscles tired and slow. 

He doesn't say anything, and Nico doesn't either. They agree wordlessly to let silence take over. 

Marti just pulls his small blanket up, burrowing under it for some comfort as well as for warmth, his eyes already falling shut.

Under the covers, he feels, or maybe imagines, Nico's hand let go of his wrist and his arm wrap gently around Marti's frame, enveloping him in a loose hug, fingers resting on his bare back. 

He falls asleep to the warm feeling of Nico tracing small, soothing circles on his skin, between his shoulder blades. 

Or maybe he just dreams of it.


	6. The morning

It feels so warm. 

His eyes still closed and only half-conscious he's about to wake up soon, Marti cuddles even closer – the gentle weight on his chest making him feel safe rather than crushed. 

His arms tighten around the sleeping form on top of him on instinct – his brain still too slow to register why the satisfied hum he gets in response, breathed out quietly against the crook of his neck, makes him feel like he's floating. 

He leans his head back against the soft touch of someone's careful hand in his hair, fingertips pressing gently into his scalp, and murmurs his quiet appreciation for it. 

He hasn't felt this warm and peaceful for... he doesn't even know how long it's been, but it feels like forever. 

If he only could have just one more minute... 

A sudden bang shatters the sleepy quiet – the wreckage rocks with the impact of something heavy crashing into it with no warning. 

Marti sits up, holding the bunk below him like an anchor, as the sleeping quarters shake with the rest of the ship. 

If there were time, Marti would take in Nico's hands on his bare shoulders, holding on to him as everything else jolts and sways around them, their legs still tangled together. 

If he could, his gaze would meet Nico for a long moment, trying to figure out what he thinks – what this is to him. If he regrets anything, if he thinks anything even happened. Marti isn't sure himself. 

If the world weren't turning upside down on them – almost literally this time – Marti would forget everything he's ever been taught about attachments, and what is allowed and what isn't – and all the reasons why. He'd forget all of that as he leaned forward, sinked his fingers into Nico's hair, and kissed him. 

If only. 

The moment the wreckage stops shaking they're on their feet, weapons in hand – Nico leading the way, already out the door while Marti is still struggling to put on his tunic on with one hand, not to let go of his saber. 

"Ni, wait!" Marti shouts-whispers, running to catch up with him, only one arm in the right sleeve, the skin on his bare arm breaking out in goosebumps the second he steps outside. 

Everything feels suspiciously peaceful. 

The top of the trees tinged by the golden light of dawn, the usual twittering of birds hushed by the sudden commotion from a moment ago. Dew droplets falling rhytmically from the leaves onto the grass, and the low murmur of the stream in the distance. 

Nico is standing in the middle of it all, hand on his forehead, shielding his eyes as he looks up to the top of the wreckage. 

He looks worried – also a number of other things Marti doesn't have time for right now. He follows his line of sight... 

... and _groans._

"Kriff!" 

A giant branch, almost half the size of the whole wreckage, has fallen from one of the trees. It looks dry and dead: no leaves on it, only some ivy. It looks like it had been waiting to fall for a while – and Marti can't help but resent the timing. 

The left side of the wreckage has suffered the hardest blow, the roof partially broken in, the top of durasteel wall crumpled like paper. The whole structure is still standing, even if strangely sideways. 

They need to remove the branch, obviously. To inspect the damage and, more importantly, to prevent more being created by the constant pressure. 

Marti turns to Nico to ask if he can think of a way to do it... only to find Nico already looking at him with a weird, unreadable, and yet somewhat still sad, look in his eyes. 

The moment he sees Marti look, he tears his gaze away and takes a step to the side, away from Marti, pretending to assess the branch situation from a different angle. There is something about the way his jaw is set that speaks of a decision already made. 

Marti knows what this means. He still bridges the gap, experimentally, only for Nico to walk away, stopping directly below the branch, so he can pretend to look at it some more.

Marti's heart sinks. He should have expected it, to a degree he did expect it, but it still hurts. 

He doesn't dare to name it but... last night, this morning: that's not the kind of life they were prepared for. It was never meant for people like them. 

A Jedi's life is one of service, not one of attachment. And yet, out here those things feel so different... 

"Well, we can't climb up and lift it." Nico's voice reaches him from parsecs away, it feels like. 

Marti shakes his head to clear it. "Mh?" 

"The branch. We can't climb up and lift it." 

"Why not?" 

Nico points at the cracks in the roof. "We'd fall through." 

He says it in a way that is so matter-of-fact it makes Marti ashamed of his stupid question. Predictably, he gets defensive. "And what do you suggest we do instead?" 

He half-hopes Nico will pick up on his bellicose tone so they can argue and Marti can be mad at him for legitimate reasons. 

Nico probably picks up on it – his brow furrowing, a flash of _something_ in his eyes, gone an instant later. He shrugs it off, pretending Marti asked the question in a perfectly reasonable and acceptable tone. 

"Maybe we could use the Force?" 

* 

It's madness, of course. 

It's a secular tree they're talking about – its knotty fallen branch spanning half the width of the entire depression the wreckage is enveloped in. 

Marti has never lifted anything heavier than... well, a cat, actually (it's a long story, and, despite what the gossip said, he didn't do it on purpose). 

Nothing remotely comparable to this. 

There is some pride involved too, he's sure, though he doesn't feel like digging too deep. Something about resentment and the sting of rejection that has him wanting to poke holes into Nico's plan even when it's the only one they've got. 

"What if we drop it?" Marti shouts so Nico can hear him from the back, at the opposite side of the wreckage. They figured this would have higher chances of working if they pushed at the branch from both sides at the same time. "Won't it break whatever's left of the roof?" 

"It will break it if we leave it on too!" 

Marti sighs. That's unfortunately true. 

"On three, okay?" Nico insists – voice urgent, like he fears Marti might chicken out on him at the last minute. 

Marti kind of wants to. "Okay!" he shouts back anyway, grimacing. 

"One, two, _three._ " 

Marti focuses his gaze on the broken branch and lets a wave of calmness and purpose take over – trying to push his doubts away. He feels the tips of his fingers prick with the strength of the Force, collecting inside of him, struggling to break free. 

_This will never work._

Marti squints, both arms stretched out in front of him, picturing the branch lifting into the air as clearly as he can – and he knows, though he can't see him, that at the back of the wreckage, Nico is doing the very same. 

Unbidden, the memory of Nico stepping away from him earlier takes over: the sudden movement, the strange look in his eyes, the way he looked so sure of the decision he'd made, like all other choices were simply unthinkable...

 _Focus_ , Marti murmurs to himself. _That doesn't matter now. Focus._

Except it does. Because it stings and while he knows they shouldn't, Marti can't bring himself to agree to a single reason why. Especially here, where nothing else seems to matter, especially now.

God, it's been years since he had so little control over the Force flowing through him...

"Marti!" Nico emerges from behind the wreckage, gesticulating at him. His voice is annoyed. He looks annoyed. 

Marti's cheeks heat up, but he plays dumb. "What? Aren't we supposed to try and lift the branch?" 

"You're not focused!" 

"I _am!_ This is just too hard." 

"You're not even trying: I can feel your thoughts straying. What the kriff's more important than this right now?" 

It's true, of course it is. But that doesn't mean Marti is ready to hear it.

"Well, sorry for being such a failure, _Master._ " Marti spits out bitterly, letting his resentment take over. "Maybe you should lift the branch on your own if you're so much better than me." 

The words stop Nico in his tracks. He searches Marti's face for something Marti makes sure he doesn't find. Nico's voice gets quieter. "I never said... I only meant-" 

"Yeah, well. I can't do this right now, okay?" 

"Okay," Nico repeats slowly. He takes a step towards Marti, reaching out with his arm, trying to grab Marti's wrist. "Marti, I..." 

He pulls away. "I have to go." 

It's the stupidest thing Marti has ever said, but it still makes Nico's face fall. "Where?" 

He has no answer – obviously. They're stuck together in the middle of nowhere, that's the whole point. 

So Marti pretends he didn't hear that. Just turns on his heels, cheeks on fire, and walks away in long strides that turn into a desperate run a bit too soon for Nico not to notice it. 

He doesn't look back. 

* 

He finds himself at the stream – force of habit taking him there when all he wanted was to go _away._

He stops because he's out of breath and it's not like he has somewhere else to go. He sits on the flat rock he usually leaves his clothes on while he's bathing. 

He wishes he were crying, just so he could tire himself out with it. He hugs his knees to his chest, burying his face between them. 

Truth is, he's not even mad anymore, just ashamed. He doesn't have anything to be mad about, nothing to hold against Nico when he thinks about it rationally, though he doesn't like to think about it at all. 

It's no one's fault, really, that he's weak and for a moment he'd hoped... 

He shakes his head, burying it even further between his knees. His eyes finally prickling with hot tears, Marti lets out a half-choked sob. 

A voice calls out from the opposite bank. Impossibly familiar and never really forgotten, it cuts through all of his sorrow and loneliness. 

"Shitty day, eh?" 

Marti's head snaps up and what he sees there, right in front of him, freezes him in place. 

He's too shocked to even scream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for taking so long – and about the cliffhanger too 😅 Hope you enjoyed the angst (I'm discovering I kind of like it when they fight, what has s4 done to me) and thank you for your support <3


End file.
